you know what 'bucket' rhymes with, right?

Over the past few months while I was not updating my blog, I was training for a 5k.

A few things you should know:

1. I hate running.

2. See #1

Let's face it, I've never been a big fan of exercising in general. But, when I turned thirty muffled number here, I decided that I would put "run a 5k" on my Bucket List.

Good times.

Here's my history with running:

- in Junior High, as part of gym class, we were forced to run 1 mile. Each and every one of us must run 4 laps around the track, and we had to stay until we finished.* I (begrudgingly) ran a 15-minute mile in raspberry-colored high-top Converse sneakers, my friend Kate cheering me on the whole way. I seem to remember being late for my next class and having wicked shin splints.

- in college, my roommates and I went to watch the Boston Marathon. The lead female runner ran the entire race with diarrhea and her period. She actually ran the race with watery poop streaming down her legs and into her socks. And she didn't stop once. I was scarred for life.

- in my mid-twenties I signed up to run the "Corporate Challenge" through my company. My friend T-Nice and I trained for weeks, jogging up and down Commonwealth Avenue. I even spent some time at the gym on the treadmill. As the big day approached, my company let me know that they 'over booked' the Challenge, and there wasn't a spot for me to run. All of that training for nothing. I quit cold turkey.

Which brings us to present day.

In an effort to be healthier, I convinced a friend to do the 'Couch to 5K' with me. I set my goal as Labor Day weekend and the New Haven Road Race. After all, it was 4 months away.

The first week was great. 60 seconds of jogging? Bring it on!

The second week, my running partner told me she was pregnant.

((sigh))

But to her credit, she's been doing awesome. She rests when she needs to, and runs along side me when she can.

We're almost done - up to 2.75 miles.

For someone who hated running, I think I've finally made peace with it.

I feel good. I've lost some weight. I'm eating better.

Will I run with the runs?

Um, never.

I'm not THAT crazy.

*I'm sorry, does anyone else see this as child abuse? If this were today, the gym teacher would have been fired, I'd have been paid a hefty sum to rectify my 'emotional state', and I would have a Lifetime movie deal.